Carry That Weight
by Lila2
Summary: Just because the NJBC has forgiven Dan doesn't mean he's forgiven himself.


**Title:** "Carry that Weight"

**Author:** Lila

**Rating: **PG-13**  
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**Character/Pairing:** Dan

**Spoiler: **"New York, I Love You XOXO"**  
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**Length: ** one-shot**  
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**Summary****:** Just because the NJBC has forgiven Dan doesn't mean he's forgiven himself.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

**Author's Note: **A couple things: I owe another chapter of "Paradise Circus." I almost always owe another chapter of "Paradise Circus," but first things first, I need to come to terms with the end of "Gossip Girl." Because it was terrible. And insulting. And hateful. And it makes absolutely no sense for Dan to have been Gossip Girl. But if he *had* to be…this is my way of working it out. Title courtesy of The Beatles. Enjoy.

* * *

Serena leaves ten months, eight days, and five hours after Dan marries her.

She doesn't say goodbye, but does leave divorce papers, neatly folded and flagged, more ordered than Serena ever was in all the days he knew her.

Dan can't say he's surprised.

Loving her was the easy part. It was holding onto her that was impossible.

* * *

Serena drops off the map.

Dan searches and searches, literally burns the midnight oil with a bunch of fancy candles someone gave them for a wedding present, but it's like she doesn't exist.

For the first time in years, Dan longs to be a teenager again, the click of his keyboard locking Serena in. She was always his, no matter the cost.

He runs a hand through his ragged hair and tries another browser, but the result is the same: Serena is free and he's still giving chase.

* * *

In her absence, the apartment feels enormous.

He remembers when she moved in, cleared out his guest room to make space for her shoes. The other bedroom was already his office, the typewriter retired to a side table.

Dan kicks off his shoes and pads around in his socks, takes inventory of the life she's left him. Her room looks the same, her perfume still clinging to the rows of sparkly dresses. Her shoes are still scattered across the floor, sweaters spilling from half-open dresser drawers. It looks like she's coming back even though Dan knows better. It's not possessions that matter to Serena, it's what she carries in her heart.

He sighs and closes the door.

They filled this house with their things and yet it was never really a home.

* * *

He bunks with Nate while he figures out what to do next.

"Mi casa es su casa," Nate laughs, smiles that wide easy grin he's worn since high school.

His friend carries a briefcase now and keeps his hair out of his eyes, and Dan's never quite sure, if it's the money or the pot, but he knows no one as accepting as Nate. At times like these, it doesn't matter. There's no one else like him in his life.

"She left me," he says over tumblers of whiskey. There's a game on in the background but Nate's a good sport and keeps his eyes trained on Dan. "Why did we bother getting married if she never planned to stay?"

Nate's eyes flick to the tv long enough to catch the score. "You know what she's like," he says and Dan remembers: he's not the only man in the room to love and lose Serena. "She always leaves before you can leave her."

Dan leans back, shakes his head. "It's just…I thought I had it all planned out. She was all I wanted since I was sixteen-years-old. I can't believe I have to start over."

Nate doesn't bother looking at the screen, stares at his tightly laced hands. He's gripping his glass so tight that his knuckles are bleaching white. "It always hurts," he finally says. "It's not because she broke your heart. It's because you realize you always loved her more than she ever loved you."

He keeps his eyes averted but Dan still sees the pain pinching his mouth. "I married her," Dan says. "And still wondered if she ever loved me at all."

Nate meet his eyes, but Dan's the one to look away. Eight years later, and the pain there matches his own.

* * *

A few days later, there's a sparkly, gold cardigan draped over the back of the couch.

It steals the breath from Dan's lungs.

It's Cotillion and the day he married her all rolled into one. It's the realization that this time, she's not coming back.

Before he can stop himself, he's on the floor with his back against the couch while he buries his face in the scratchy sequins and sobs.

He really needs a handbook for getting over Serena Van der Woodsen.

* * *

There's a smudge of black eyeliner on the guest towels the next morning.

It could mean any number of things, but this is the Upper East Side. There are no coincidences. Dan picks up the cardigan and surprises his sister at work.

Blair isn't there, but Jenny is in rare form, ordering seamstresses around while prattling on about tartan versus plaid. Her assistant scurries away as he approaches but Jenny scoffs at him.

It's been a few months since his last haircut and he hasn't been eating much and Jenny actually takes a step back as he approaches. "When was the last time you showered?"

He shakes his head and holds out the cardigan. "I think this belongs to you."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Still judging, I see."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He's still holding the cardigan in his hand, a flash of gold that brings him back to the first time he had this conversation.

Jenny sighs and tugs the cardigan away. "You didn't react well the last time Nate and I dated."

"So you lied to me." Anger flares into Dan's cheeks and he goes with it, runs with the chance to feel anything but overwhelming sadness. "My wife left me, Jen."

"And the world is still turning!" Her voice is loud and minions are sneaking peeks. She takes a deep breath, gets it together. "We didn't lie to you, Dan. We just didn't tell you. Nate says you've been so sad all the time…I didn't want to make it worse."

Dan sighs. "I'm sorry. You know what they say about stages of grief? I think I hit stage two."

Jenny steps forward, takes his hands in hers. "It's not your fault, Dan. No matter what happened in the past, she got into this with her eyes wide open." Her fingers tighten and she's still impossibly thin, but her grip is stronger than he anticipated. "It's not your fault."

"So you and Nate?" he says and pulls away. No matter how many excuses Jenny makes, it doesn't change how he drove his wife away.

A tentative smile breaks out across her face, small and giddy, the kind of hidden smile he used to share with Serena. "I'm really happy, Dan."

He slings an arm around her shoulder, steers her towards the exit. "Tell me all about it over lunch."

Her face brightens, a bloom of new love spreading across her cheeks. Dan feels the anger leave his chest, while a new emptiness sets in.

Just because his sister has found forgiveness doesn't mean he will.

* * *

He moves to Cobble Hill a week later.

Nate is apologetic, but Dan assures him that it has nothing to do with Jenny, because it doesn't. He's happy for them, truly happy, although it will always be creepy that his best friend is also sleeping with his sister.

It's the place, the memories, how much it feels like a cage.

He reinvented himself once for Serena. He goes home to rise from the ashes again.

* * *

Returning to Brooklyn is easier than he thought.

He gets a morning coffee at Café Pedlar, buys groceries at Union Market, and spends an inordinate amount of time browsing at BookCourt. His books are there, both of them, and they still sell at an alarming rate.

He hasn't written a novel since. Once he got the girl, he no longer needed stories.

Eric comes over to help him move in. He brings a plant and a six-pack of Brooklyn Lager and they spend the afternoon making his new apartment into a home.

"You're alphabetizing," Eric says and pulls a copy of 100 Years of Solitude out of a pile. "What's up?"

Neither of them are wearing plaid, but they're in a Brooklyn loft and it's easy to slip into the past. Only this time, there's no girl problem that Eric's words of wisdom can fix.

"I'm unpacking," Dan says, tries to steer the conversation in another direction. "It's what people do when they move."

Eric thumbs though A-F. "I love my family, but let's be real. My mom's been married six times. We always thought it was a miracle that Serena even made it to the altar."

Dan appreciates the joke but it doesn't help. "What did I do?" he finally asks, vocalizes the question he's been avoiding since the day he came home to an empty house. "What did I do to push her away?"

Eric sighs and puts down the stack of books. "You created her, Dan. You made her this way."

Dan can accept the last part, but not the first. "Not fair. I didn't make your dad leave or force your mom to marry every Klaus that she met." He slams a book down so hard that his neatly organized stack of "T-Z" falls over. "You can't blame this on me."

"I'm not blaming you," Eric says softly. "But I am pointing out the truth. She forgave you, Dan, but that doesn't make it go away. You spent five years tormenting her so she'd fall in love with you. You can't be surprised when it didn't stick."

What's left of the book tower topples over, but Dan can't hear it over the roaring in his ears. He slides to the floor and rests his head against the crumbly brick wall. There's always a price to pay, but he never thought he would be the one to suffer the consequences. It was easy to hide when he was a part of her world, but he's in Brooklyn again. There's no where to hide. "I thought…" he starts, but the words stick in his throat.

Eric slides down beside him. "We all make mistakes." He pushes up the sleeves of his sweater to reveal the twin lines cutting a jagged pattern over the thin skin of his wrists. "I could have let it fester, but what kind of life would that have been? I had to move forward. You do too." He jumps up and holds out a hand.

Dan lets Eric help him to his feet. It's a start.

* * *

He starts writing again.

Not the trite profiles and puff pieces he authored during his time with Serena, but stories that matter.

There's an old couple making out on the subway, a baby taking tentative first steps down 5th Avenue, a young couple holding hands as they stroll along the Promenade. He writes about them without wanting anything in return.

He documents everything and sells nothing. He doesn't own other people's stories anymore.

* * *

A perk of living in Brooklyn is being closer to his dad.

He likes Lisa a lot, and the late-in-life twins they brought into the world a year earlier, and tries to drop by at least once a week.

He's early one day in November and when he opens the door to the loft, Chuck and his dad are sitting at the island chatting like old girlfriends.

"Is everything okay?" It feels like he's fallen into "The Twilight Zone." He can't remember Lily's son exchanging civil words with his father at any point before or during their marriage, and there's no reason for them to be talking after it dissolved. His dad opens his mouth to explain, but his cellphone rings and he disappears into the twins' room to take the call.

Chuck is clearly uncomfortable being alone with him, even as he sips from a "Welcome Back, Kotter" mug, and Dan's too distracted to wonder if there's more than coffee in that mug.

"Hello, Humphrey," Chuck drawls.

Dan warily slides into the empty seat. "What are you doing here?"

Chuck shrugs, his purple paisley bowtie bobbing. "Rufus and I talk every now and then. He gives me relevant advice."

Rufus was a semi-successful musician, but mostly a failed gallery owner and husband. "Are you hoping to start a 90's cover band?" Dan asks.

"Actually, he helps me with Henry."

"My dad? You go to Rufus Humphrey for parenting advice?"

Chuck is silent for a long while as he stares at his perfectly polished shoes. "I don't have a lot to work with. Cyrus lives in Paris and Lily loves William, but he gave her fake cancer. I can't let myself turn into Bart."

Dan is sympathetic, but confused. "You do remember all the mistakes Jenny and I have made. My dad raised us. He let that happen on his watch."

Chuck shrugs, picks at a non-existent piece of lint on his jacket. "You're forgetting that I once traded Blair for a hotel and tried to reinvent myself as a character from Shakespeare. You made mistakes, but you never had to worry about finding a place to land. The harder I fell…did you ever doubt for a second that your dad loved you? That he'd always love you, no matter what you did?"

There's a long list of times Rufus judged Dan within an inch of his life, but he always knew it came from a place of love. "Yeah," he says softly. "He never turned his back on me."

Chuck nods. "That's what I want to give Henry. Your dad is teaching me how to do it."

He turns back to his coffee and Dan stares into space until Rufus returns and the conversation turns to how much television a five-year-old should be watching. Dan zones out for most of it, but the message lingers.

He can't change his past, but he can change how his future unfolds.

* * *

He's been in his apartment a month when he comes home to the scent of Jo Malone candles.

Blair is talking a mile a minute in Mandarin, but he can still hear the sharp click of her heels as she storms towards him.

"This is completely unacceptable!" she starts, waving her hands at random. "You simply cannot live here."

He drops his messenger bag by the door and starts for the fridge. He offers her a beer and the look of abject horror on her face makes him smile. "What can I do for you, Blair?" he asks and turns on the kettle. She's already rummaging through his tea selection but he reaches for the Lady Grey. She's never been one to stray from tradition.

She spreads a series of glossy pamphlets over the island. "I've already had my assistant do the research. There's a lovely one-bedroom a few blocks from the townhouse. If you stop stalling, you can move in as early as next week."

"I'm not leaving."

"You can't be serious. All you ever wanted was to be one of us. You can't be if you live in Brooklyn."

Her words are punctuated by the whistle of the kettle, but they hurt all the same. It wasn't just Serena he lost because he needed to fit in. "I like it here."

"Then do it for Henry," she says in that way where her words don't match her mouth. It's suspicious, but he still plays along.

"What about Henry?"

"How can you possibly stand in for Serena if you're a borough away?" Her eyes widen slightly, his ex-wife's name actually out in the open, but the wound doesn't sting as much. He pours her tea and opens his beer and sees through her excuses like he has for years.

"I took him to the Museum of the Moving Image last month," he reminds her. "That was in Queens." Her mouth wobbles and he's sure this was never about Henry at all.

"Hey, hey," he says and pushes the drinks aside. He tugs her over to the couch and sits beside her and holds her hands in his. Her dress has a flowered pattern and his hair is in desperate need of a cut, but they're not twenty years old anymore. He won't make this about him. "I'm not going anywhere and she's going to come back." It's hard to say and makes his chest hurt, but it's the truth all the same. "She runs, but she always comes back," he manages to say. "Even if it's not to me."

"I don't know where she is," Blair whispers. "What if she never comes home?" She's crying in earnest now, big, fat tears sliding down her cheeks and he was married to Serena Van der Woodsen but he's still never seen anyone so beautiful when she cries.

Dan brushes the tears away and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, retrieves the tea and sets it before her. "I want to take Henry this weekend," he tells her. "Just because his godmother up and ran doesn't mean I have to leave too." Blair smiles weakly but it's bright enough to lodge in his chest, fill the hole Serena left behind.

"Thank you. He'll like that," she says and rises, smoothes down her skirt and slips into her discarded heels. He dumps her mug in the sink and finishes off the beer. "I was wrong about you," Blair says. She's standing in his doorway, impeccably made up and without a hair out of place, but she doesn't look like she doesn't belong. "It's not that you didn't fit in, but you never wanted it enough."

He shakes his head. "I pretended to be a teenage girl so I could be one of you. I don't think it gets more desperate than that."

Blair gestures around the apartment "You looked the part and married the girl, but look where you are. You always knew where you belonged." She leans in and kisses his cheek, leaves a trace of red lipstick behind.

The door closes and he takes stock of his apartment, the piles of books and Netflix dvds and the boots lined up by his door. There's not a sequin in sight but it still feels right.

It's not what he wanted when he was sixteen, but it's all he wants now.

* * *

His outing with Henry starts at the Transit Museum and his pseudo-godson loves everything about it.

He opens the door to the townhouse door in a suit and bowtie and refuses to change even as Dorota tries to convince him that pants and a sweater would be more comfortable.

"I want to look like Daddy!" he insists and Dorota mumbles in Polish while Dan represses a smile. He knows Nate has sent soccer gear for every birthday, but nothing compares to the dressing like the man that Henry loves most.

"You ready to go?" Dan asks and Henry's eyes light up because a trip with Uncle Dan means a ride on the subway. They catch a 4 Train and walk from Borough Hall while Henry chats about school and soccer and how mommy keeps throwing up in the mornings. Dan swallows down the nausea and tries to be happy for Blair. He gave up on that dream long before Serena gave up on him.

Henry wanders through the museum with enormous eyes and Dan trails behind him, occasionally reading signs out loud but mostly marveling at how much the city has changed in only a century.

A flash of purple catches his eye and he's brought back to how much his own life has changed. Chuck and Blair have a family, Nate might actually and truly run for mayor, he's back in Brooklyn. All he ever wanted was Serena and when he's finally in the right place, she's the only thing that's missing.

Henry runs up and tugs on his hand, asks if they can explore an old subway car. Dan peers into his little face, right into Blair's eyes, and can't say no.

Later, he takes him for burgers at Two 8 Two and ice cream at Van Leeuwen and holds him in his lap while he sleeps away the trip home. He's soft and warm, his face nestled right over Dan's heart. Dan can't remember the last time someone trusted him so much.

It's the best afternoon he's had in ages.

* * *

Blair is waiting up when he brings Henry home. Her face is waxy and her hair is a little limp, but there's still a glow that even morning sickness can't hide.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he says as Dorota carts Henry up to bed. Chuck is no where in sight, but Dan knows from experience that it doesn't mean anything. Even hard workers can be good dads.

Blair stares at him and then starts threatening Dorota. "It was Henry," Dan clarifies. "He mentioned that you're not feeling well. It wasn't hard to put two-and-two together."

Blair smiles weakly and collapses on the couch. "It's a girl this time," she says. "There's no other explanation for why I feel so miserable."

"Or maybe you work too hard." He sits down beside her and props her feet on the coffee table even though he knows it drives her crazy.

"What if I'm being punished?" she asks, pulls the question out of the blue.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm a better actress than you think," she says softly. "I act like I don't remember, but I do. How could I ever forget?"

"Your first baby," he whispers. He remembers those days, when he stood beside her and encouraged her to love other men even when she owned his heart.

"I carried him inside me for four months. I didn't love Louis, but I loved him and I acted like it didn't matter. I have everything I want in my life. What if it's too much?"

Dan is quiet for a long time. It's been years but it still stings, that no matter what trick he pulled he could never make her choose him. "I'm happy, Blair," he says and realizes it's the truth. "I like my apartment and my life. I like spending time with Henry and I like writing about things that mean something. There's no such thing as too much if you go about it in the right way."

She looks at him, hard and direct, the way she always looks at him but there's more. It's like she's looking through him, seeing you for the first time, even though she's known him for a decade.

Dan understands, even if the scrutiny burns. He loved Serena for half his life and never knew her at all.

* * *

Serena comes home right before Christmas with Carter Baizen and a belly twice the size of Blair's.

Dan hears about it from Blair and Chuck and Nate and Jenny and finally Serena herself. There are a few things she wants from their old apartment and she agrees to trek to Brooklyn to retrieve the box.

She's still beautiful when she arrives on his doorstep and pregnancy suits her, the flowy cut of her dress matching the long, tangled layers of her golden hair.

He opens the door to let her in and blinks; for the first time, he isn't blinded.

She stands still for a long time, glancing around the room and taking it in, arms resting on the large bulge her belly. Her box is at Dan's feet and he's not pushing her to leave, but still wants her gone. This is his life now and she doesn't belong.

"I always thought it would be like this," she finally says, reaches up to push her hair back from her face. There's no ring on her left hand, but Dan doesn't feel smug, only sorry for Carter. He's glad his world no longer consists of chasing after Serena.

"Why did you marry me?" he asks. Being near her doesn't make him want to hit something and he doesn't think he'll break down in sobs, but he still needs to know. There's no anger in his voice, but she still flinches, hugs her belly tighter.

"Because I loved you," she says, like it's that simple, like it explains why she disappeared without a word.

"You loved me so much that you left and didn't even say goodbye."

"I had to get away," she says. "You know how I am."

Dan shakes his head, picks up the box and starts for the door. "I'm so glad we made it legal when you always knew you'd bolt."

Serena is carrying twenty extra pounds, but is surprisingly light on her feet. She rests a hand on his arm and he stops, transfixed. He knows he can't ever be with her, but he loved her for half his life. He can't kill a feeling. "It wasn't you," she tells him. "I was never comfortable in her my own skin. With you, I couldn't forget it."

Dan swallows hard. "I loved you…"

"You loved the girl I was on the Intrepid, at that party. I always wanted to be that girl and one day it was too much. Carter…" she starts, gauges his reaction. Now he kind of wants to punch something but keeps his balled fists at his sides. "Carter looks at me and all he sees is me." She leans in and cups his face in her hands, presses a soft kiss to his lips. "First, you need to love yourself most of all."

She's gone in a haze of blonde hair and hippieisms, but the words still stick. He could never change Serena. It's time to stop changing himself.

* * *

Dan writes another novel.

It quickly cracks the Top Ten and he makes a fortune selling the movie rights.

It's not an expose even though it's not so loosely based off the last year of his life.

This time, the only secrets exposed are his own.

* * *

Blair's daughter is born in early summer.

She has a mop of dark curls and big dark eyes and she's so new that she looks like no one but herself.

Dan brings flowers and stuffed animals and tells Blair that her daughter is beautiful even though she's that peculiar pink shade of newborn.

"Hi Humphrey," Blair says and waves him in. He'd passed Chuck and Henry in the hall en route to dinner, and he's glad to have a few minutes alone with Blair. He's been busy the last few months and seen little of her.

"Wow," he says and crouches down beside her bed. "She's so tiny."

Blair laughs. "They grow so fast. It's hard to remember they're ever this small."

"What's her name?" Dan asks. He already consulted the Audrey Hepburn catalogue on the way over and is debating if she chose Anne or Holly.

"Claire," Blair says. "Claire Rose Waldorf Bass. We're going to call her Rose."

Dan understands the nod to Cyrus, but it's her first name that takes him aback. "You named her…"

Blair smiles, runs a hand down her daughter's cheek. "I read your book, Dan, and not just the dirty parts. " Her expression grows serious as she gazes intently at her daughter. "A girl should always be loved for exactly who she is."

"Blair…"

"I love you," she says quietly. "I never said it then but it doesn't make the words any less true. Chuck is the love of my life, but you gave me the greatest gift. It's not enough to just be loved. You taught me that."

There's no future for them, but it doesn't stop Dan from leaning forward and brushing his mouth over hers. "Thank you," he says and she laughs, a real laugh, just as her husband and son stumble in. Henry has time for a quick hug for Dan, but is mostly interested in pestering his new sister while Chuck tries to wrangle his family.

Dan leans against the doorframe and watches it all, the future that's wide and open whenever he's ready to take it. He catches Blair's eye one last time before heading home for the night.

It's never felt so good to be the outsider looking in.

* * *

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